


the last days of summer

by stickmarionette



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Baby Dream Team, Childhood Sweethearts, Gen, Growing Old, Hurt/Comfort, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26025682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickmarionette/pseuds/stickmarionette
Summary: Leo's sitting with his head in his hands, and no one around him. It's how he prefers it when he's upset, but it's not always good for him, and in the old days someone who knew that would've gone up to him, put an arm around his shoulder. Made a joke.And now - it's deathly quiet in the locker room. Just a whole heap of private misery, everyone in their own little spheres of it. Sergio catches Gerard's eye, inclines his head in Leo's direction. Gerard nods. The room empties out like magic.It's just him, now.Gerard and Leo, after Bayern.
Relationships: Lionel Messi & Gerard Piqué
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	the last days of summer

Gerard doesn't cry in front of the press, but it's close.

He's cried in front of them before, when he was so happy he couldn't contain it, and when Pep left - and God, that seems like a lifetime ago, he'd been so young then - and when nothing seemed to matter anyway, after Tito.

Today he doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to give the vultures the satisfaction.

He says what he has to say, and if he chokes up a few times, that's all right. He's the joker, the prankster; a bit of emotion makes him seem more serious. More mature.

That's a funny idea, and to be fair one he's cultivated - that he's a kid still, playing harmless pranks. No threat to anyone, because God forbid he take anything seriously.

It's easier for everyone to pretend that's still true. Nevermind that he's the one who negotiated the shirt sponsor, when the people who run the club couldn't negotiate their way out of a paper bag. Nevermind the businesses, the number of people he employs, the work he's done. Shit-stirrer and media magnet and a famous girlfriend, that's Gerard for you. Alternatively too lackadaisical and too powerful, which is the funniest joke of all. God knows if he really was running the club, it wouldn't be in such bad shape.

The last time he'd felt this way he thought about it. Just retiring. Having one less job to do. Less media shit, more free time, he could pick up the kids from school, take them to practice.

Who's he kidding, though, like he could leave it alone.

That in the end was what did it, what made him decide to stay. The thought of just watching from the sidelines - watching Leo score goals, watching Marc-Andre make saves, watching the new kids come up and turn into stars - was unbearable.

But maybe watching this from afar would've been better, he thinks, involuntarily coming to a stop just inside the locker room as he sees Leo's slumped form.

He's tiny. Gerard's thought so probably hundreds of times, from the first day they met, and it strikes him again now. Not just short, but slight. His feet dangle off the floor. They're tiny, too. His cleats always look like they're for a child.

On the pitch he's bigger than any of them, his presence alone enough to scare some teams into submission. His feet shake the earth. Off it, and especially when he's lost or sad, he shrinks even further; he all but disappears from a room.

He's sitting with his head in his hands, and no one around him. It's how he prefers it when he's upset, but it's not always good for him, and in the old days someone who knew that would've gone up to him, put an arm around his shoulder. Made a joke.

And now - it's deathly quiet in the locker room. Just a whole heap of private misery, everyone in their own little spheres of it. Sergio catches Gerard's eye, inclines his head in Leo's direction. Gerard nods. The room empties out like magic.

It's just him, now.

Earlier in the year, when they were having round 200 of passive aggressive media leaks from the board to their favourite newspapers, Leo had gotten fed up enough to actually say something public instead of just complaining to Gerard. He'd probably gotten sick of Gerard saying _you should say something, it'll move the needle if it's you_.

It moved the needle, all right. Maybe for a week.

_"Everything is wrong, Geri."_

_"You don't have to stay, you know. You don't have to be tied to this."_

_The words turn to ashes in his mouth. He regrets it immediately, even giving voice to the idea._

_Leo looks at him like he's grown another head. "What are you saying?"_

_"I don't know. Don't listen to me."_

_Leo laughs, hollow and bitter, and Gerard wishes fervently to never hear Leo sound like this again. It's unthinkable that football of all things could do this to Leo, when it's given him everything._

_"You'd_ hate _me if I left."_

_"I wouldn't," Gerard says, stung._

_"Yeah, you would." Leo is dead certain, immovable. "I'm not like the others. Look at what happened with Cesc. They didn't even want him here anymore and still - "_

_"I don't hate Cesc," Gerard protests._

_Leo snorts. "I know. You're a sap. They'd make you hate me."_

_"I promise I won't. Just don't go to Madrid."_

_Leo raises both eyebrows at him. He looks ridiculous. "My kids go to school here. You think I want a mob to burn down my house?"_

They'd been joking around, both a little tipsy, because no matter how bad it got the idea of Leo going anywhere before he wanted to go was crazy talk. Looking at him now, Gerard's no longer so sure.

He sits down next to him, puts an arm around his shoulder. Usually this is Leo's cue to unspool and jam himself into Gerard's side, but he doesn't even stir. It's like hugging a statue.

"Hey. Leo. Leo. It's me."

Leo doesn't answer, but his arms flop down like a puppet with its strings cut and his head drops onto Gerard's shoulder. His shoulders heave as he gulps in a deep breath and - urgh -

"Don't wipe your snot on my shirt."

"I'm not," Leo says indignantly, muffled against his chest.

Thank God there's some life in there still. Gerard's dry chuckle comes out like he's forgotten how a laugh should sound.

"Was it bad out there?" Leo asks quietly.

He hadn't shown, of course. Almost none of them had. Who can blame them for not wanting to front up after that? Somebody had to, though. Somebody with thick enough skin to get through it. Somebody who's not afraid to give them something to chew on. That's Gerard. There's no use fighting it.

"Yeah. Leo. Listen. It's gonna be all right."

That gets Leo to raise his head, to give him that look, the one Gerard secretly treasures, like he thinks Gerard's the one who's an alien. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks so tired.

"You don't have to - I know you're pissed too."

"I mean it."

Leo runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. "You weren't here, the last time it was like this." His voice rises on the end and he has to tamp it down. "They're going to chase half of us out of here."

Gerard shrugs. "Let 'em. Let's see how they enjoy having me on the outside pissing in."

"Gross. I'm serious."

"So am I. They already treat me like a rival candidate in the papers. If they kick me out I might as well make it true."

That's the endgame. That's what's been swirling around him for years, what gives the columnists in MD their teeth. Gerard likes to think the way the powers that be treat him means they're scared of it, at least a little bit.

Leo's eyes go wide. He looks a bit like a kid again. "Shit, Geri, if you mean it…"

Gerard puts on his best daredevil grin. "When I'm president you better not talk shit about me to the press."

"I have years of material, just you wait," Leo says, with a flash of his usual spirit, before sobering up again. "What we talked about before. I - I was sitting here, thinking about it, you know? Actually thinking about what it'd be like. If I - If I went."

Gerard feels an unpleasant chill down his spine. It takes him a moment to pry his mouth open. "I meant it. You gotta do what's best for you."

There's an odd sense of deja vu, saying that. He's said it enough times, when he really wanted to throw a tantrum and beg, say _please stay. Please don't leave me._

Leo looks at him all fond and sad like he knows exactly what Gerard's thinking. "That's why - If it's you. I trust you. If you asked me to stay."

"If I could." If he could ask and know that he was asking because it was the best thing for Leo, the best thing for Barca. "I'm going for it, Leo."

Leo wraps his arms around Gerard's middle, all the tension seeping out of his body. "Okay."

Gerard combs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath of his own, waits for Leo to continue. But of course he doesn't. "Okay? That's it? No inspirational speech, captain?"

Leo makes a sound that could almost be a laugh. "Yeah. When have you ever failed at anything?"

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this made me feel better and I hope it makes you feel better too.
> 
> Find me on tumblr despairing over the state of Barca at stickmarionette.


End file.
